


Sixth Time's the Charm

by calaofnoldor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Badass!Reader, F/M, Fake Marriage, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, exasperated squirrel, huffy!sam, jealous!Sam, protective!Sam, tropesss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28082082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calaofnoldor/pseuds/calaofnoldor
Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.
Relationships: Sam Winchester & You, Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://calaofnoldor.tumblr.com/post/637716193840709632/sixth-times-the-charm-masterlist) updates earlier :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean asks you to flirt with a cop for info. Sam is not pleased.

The first time was an impromptu experiment. Of course, Dean already knew Sam had a crush on you; he raised the kid for crying out loud. That and the way Sam had stumbled over his own tongue and feet the first time they encountered you (and nearly every time thereafter) made it quite obvious to everyone… well, except you, apparently. Regardless, Dean figured it was just the case of a simple crush and poor Sammy being unable to match his finesse with the ladies.

So when the three of you came across a sleazy police captain, who was in no way shy about having the hots for you, during a rugaru hunt in Nebraska, Dean was rather taken aback by his brother’s unusual reaction.

Strolling into the Omaha police department with you and Sam on either side, the older Winchester had identified the captain immediately from his picture online.

“Captain Anderson,” Dean addressed the man directly in a low, authoritative tone, “I’m Agent Parker, and these are my partners Agents Stan and Lee.” He motioned to his right and left side as he introduced you, accordingly, pausing as you flashed your fake badges in unison.

The captain was a tall, slightly rotund fellow, with a mustache to rival an 80’s porn star’s, and he scoffed haughtily at your entrance. “What the hell do the feds want with us? And did they really hafta send three of ya?” He gestured pointedly at you with a patronizing raise of his chin and your blood began to boil at the implicitly misogynistic remark.

“Well no offense, Captain,” you spoke up; your FBI get-up always gave you an extra boost of confidence (something about the power suit vibes you supposed), plus men like him really pissed you off, “but there have been five deaths here within the last week, and from what I understand, your team has a grand total of zero working theories and just as many leads, so perhaps you can understand why the government would show some concern.”

“Mm, mm, mm!” Captain Anderson chanted obnoxiously in response. He gave you a painfully slow once-over, eyes filled with a crude and unrestrained lechery that forced a shiver down your spine. “A woman who knows how to take charge… I like that,” he licked his lips lasciviously.

Dean was torn between awaiting your likely ruthless and epic comeback or telling the douchebag off himself when he heard Sam clear his throat forcedly beside him. Looking over, he was surprised to find his giant of a little brother to be a picture of rage. Strained jaw, clenched fists, distended chest, and a murderous glare directed unwaveringly at the Omaha police captain.

Meanwhile, you were finding it difficult to resist the urge to roll your eyes and repress your temper to maintain a professional front. “We need information and clearance,” you stated firmly, ignoring the cop’s inappropriate and debaucherous display, “Are you going to hand it over or not?”

“Sorry little miss, no can do! You’re prolly gonna hafta talk to the chief if you want in on a big boy case like this one… but, you know, I can think of some _ways_ you might be able to convince me otherwise,” he finished with a lewd wink before taking off.

Sam looked like he was about to lunge at the captain, but Dean put a hand on his arm to ground him. He was starting to suspect Sam’s behavior might have more to do with you than the fact that the captain was a regular dickhead. After all, Sam was usually the calmer and more rational of the brothers, especially during hunts.

You were too busy holding yourself back to notice though, staring daggers into Anderson’s back as you watched him walk away.

“What an asshole. I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dean began. An idea was forming in his head, one that could help him test his theory. “Look, you know I wouldn’t ask this if there was a better way, but dyou think, maybe, just this once, you could… you know? Turn on the charm a bit? Just so we can get in?”

Sam had not been fully engaged in the conversation until just then, too focused on trying to mollify the inexplicable rage that Captain Anderson had incited within him, but Dean’s request certainly caught his attention.

“What?! Dean! You can’t be serious. No. We’ll find another way. Just- **No**.” Sam’s voice was harder and deeper than usual and for a moment you lost yourself in it, daydreaming that perhaps he was exhibiting a sense of jealously. But who were you kidding? Sam was just a nice guy who detested sexist pricks like Anderson; this had nothing to do with you.

“No, it’s fine. Dean’s right. This is the easiest way. I’ll do it,” you stated quietly before adding with a small smile, “I can suck it up on account of saving some lives.”

Dean grinned and you walked away before Sam could protest any further. When you reached the captain’s office, you didn’t bother knocking on the open door, “Alright, Captain Anderson-“

“Please, call me Frank.” He looked up at you with such a smug and revolting expression, you decided there was no way you could follow through with Dean’s plan.

“Listen, Frank,” you crossed your arms in what you hoped was an ‘I mean business’ stance, but quickly dropped them when you realized the action had unwittingly highlighted your cleavage in the button-down blouse you were wearing and spurred yet another round of gratuitous leering from Frank. “What’s it gonna take for you to hand over the case files and grant us full access to the evidence and crime scenes?”

“Well, since I like you, I’ll make it easy for ya. How about we start with a smile?” He had leaned forward in his seated position behind his desk as he spoke, and you almost smacked him right then.

As you turned to leave, however, it was Anderson who smacked you, open palmed and right on the ass. You forced yourself to take a deep breath before slowly turning back around. Keeping your movements deliberate and unhurried, you bent over his desk, ignoring the impulse to gag at the greasy, utterly unholy scent that filled your nostrils as you got close enough to whisper in his ear, “You know what, I’ll make it easy for you too. How about, if you give my partners and I complete authorization on this case, I won’t report you to the feds for sexual harassment? See, I know people in the upper ranks and I’ve got a lawyer who wipes the floor with guys like you on the daily.” It was all lies, of course, but you figured it was for a good cause.

“So what’s it gonna be, _Captain_?” You asked after straightening yourself back up.

As you’d hoped, the bastard was looking a little worse for wear, though you could tell he was trying to retain what little he could of his arrogant persona. “You little bitch.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine. You can have it,” he pointed at a stack of file folders on his desk, and then sighed as he produced three security passes, “Go crazy! Go fuck yourself.”

“Gladly,” you sassed, ready to strut out of there with everything you came for in hand.

Behind you, things had not gone so smoothly. When Sam saw Anderson slapping your butt, he was fully prepared to march over and break the captain’s nose, but Dean again held him back, “Woah, hey, you know Y/N can handle herself. What’s up with you?”

Then when he was forced to watch you lean in tantalizingly close and whisper something in Anderson’s ear, Sam experienced an entirely foreign sensation. He was still burning with fury, but that anger was joined by a peculiar ache. His heart had risen to his throat as he stood there, completely transfixed, a look of dejection and longing written across his face.

‘Huh,’ Dean had thought with an internal smirk, ‘Sammy’s got it ba-ad!’ he sing-song-ed in his own head, storing the information away for later, when he could find an opportune moment to tease his baby brother about it.

For now, Dean gave you two thumbs up as he watched you return with a triumphant grin, holding up three official passes by their lanyards.

“Got it all. We’re completely in,” you supplied each brother a security pass when you reached them.

“Damn. You are good, woman! What did you even say to him?” Dean chuckled as the three of you left the station.

“Oh nothing, just a bit of light threatening.”

Sam stopped to look at you quizzically. “Wait, what? You mean you didn’t- you weren’t… flirting with him?”

“Nah, I was too appalled by the thought to go down that route.”

“Oh,” he huffed out, looking down with drooped shoulders and an awkward twitch of a smile. You could have sworn he looked somewhat relieved, but decided not to read too much into it, too pleased with yourself to allow the ever-growing gloom of your unrequited love dampen your spirits.

The whole time Dean was staring back at the two of you in disbelief. ‘These goddamn idiots,’ he thought with an exasperated yet slightly amused shake of his head.


	2. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're injured and Sam is overprotective. Dean gets caught in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can also be found on [tumblr](https://calaofnoldor.tumblr.com/post/638173495717675008/sixth-times-the-charm-2) :)

The second time was an accident, although that did nothing to lessen Sam’s resulting ire. It was the middle of November and the three of you had been hit with one case after another, giving you no time to recover from injuries and keeping everyone rather keyed up.

A stupid misstep during a wendigo chase had left you with a sprained ankle on the last hunt. Sam, being the modern Prince Charming kinda guy that he was, had carried you back to the car while you protested futilely within his solid arms, eventually giving up in favor of hiding your embarrassment in the crook of his neck, though that only made your foolish heart beat faster.

“Sam, I’m fine, seriously. It’s nothing! A bit of ice and I’ll be good to go. You don’t have to do this,” you had nearly begged after he set you down on your motel room bed. His proximity always made you nervous, but when it was just the two of you and he was taking care of you like this? It set your heart racing and left a bittersweet aftertaste in your soul.

“Y/N, would you just let me look at it?” Sam hadn’t meant to sound so snappy, but he was growing tired of you always pushing him away whenever he got too close. He figured you wanted to keep your distance, keep things platonic, and he could never blame you for protecting yourself, especially given his history with women, but he genuinely wanted to help you. Sam _needed_ to make sure you were all right.

His irritable tone had shut you right up, so you simply nodded in consent. ‘Great, now I’m annoying him,’ you thought with a quiet sigh.

Sam tried to send you an apologetic smile, to show that he was simply worried, but you wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Great, now she hates me,’ he thought with a defeated sigh.

Choosing not to dwell on the lump in his throat, Sam quickly got to work, ever so gently removing your boot and then sock before rolling up your pant leg just enough to get a clear look. His capable hands and eyes meticulously examined your swollen ankle, turning it this way and that as you leaned back on your hands and shifted uncomfortably on your bum.

“Well, you were right, I don’t think it’s broken. Probably just a bad sprain. You should stay off it for a while though,” his magical kaleidoscope eyes peered up at you through thick lashes as rays of setting sunlight pierced through the only small window in the room and bounced off his cheekbones in ways that left you speechless once again.

You gulped, finding it impossible not to hold his gaze. “Right, thanks doc,” you whispered awkwardly after a beat, swiftly removing your leg from his hold, and rolling your pants back down.

And that had been that.

Now here you were a week later, discussing your plan for a possible witch hunt.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Dean started, “Sammy can go through the back door, and I’ll go in from the front, while Y/N keeps watch on the outside and-”

“Dude, what the hell?!” Sam’s sudden outburst surprised both you and Dean, as he slammed his laptop shut and raised both hands in question.

“What? What do you mean ‘what the hell’?” Dean shot back, completely perplexed.

“Dean! She has a bad ankle!” Sam’s voice was filled with an unrecognizable anger and his darkened eyes bored fiercely into Dean’s.

“Okayyy, and I put her on lookout duty…” the older Winchester repeated slowly, trying to suss out his brother’s mystical problem.

“Which means she’s gonna have to walk back and forth around the place, and if she sees something, she’s gonna have to run!” Sam accused his brother incredulously, gesturing wildly with his big hands.

Dean couldn’t hold back the dramatic eye roll that accompanied his sigh of disbelief. ‘Here we go again,’ he thought, wishing his baby brother would just man up and tell you how he felt instead of throwing these little tantrums.

Your jaw had been slack as you watched the entire exchange in bewilderment. Feeling a little bad for Dean, however, you decided to finally speak up, adjusting your voice to take on a soothing tone, “Sammy, I’m fine. Honestly, it’s feeling a lot better!” While that wasn’t exactly true, you weren’t sure you could handle another round of his huge yet gentle hands caressing your bare skin. “Besides, it’s not exactly unheard of to be on a job while you’re still a little battered and bruised; that’s just part of the life. I mean, you guys do it all the time!”

Sam turned to look at you for the first time since he’d started speaking, trying to ignore the whirl of butterflies that erupted in his stomach when you used the nickname that had been reserved for Dean only up until you came along (it always sounded so sweet coming out of your mouth, he could never find it in himself to correct you), so he could focus on his train of thought. “Yeah, but we don’t do things that’ll make our injuries worse. Y/N, you need to stay off that foot or it’s not gonna heal properly!”

“Look, Sam, I appreciate the concern. I really do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve had much worse and we need all hands on deck for this case.”

“Well, she ain’t wrong about that. This bitch has been tricky since the start,” Dean chimed in.

Sam flashed his brother a dangerous glare, the muscles in his jaw popping, before he turned back to you, “No. I’m sorry, but I think you’d be more help to us if you just stayed in the car.”

“ _No_?” you questioned him with narrowed eyes. Sure, he was the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on, but that didn’t mean he could tell you what to do – especially not when it came to hunting, the one thing in which you were fully confident of your abilities.

Dean looked on with an amused smirk, glad he wasn’t the one about to get chewed out anymore.

“Sam, I know you mean well, but you don’t get to make that decision for me. That’s not how this works. I joined you two ‘cause we work well as a team. But that only holds if we all get equal say, if we all respect each other as hunters. I’m telling you that I can do this, and you need trust me.”

Sighing as he rubbed his temples, Sam stayed quiet for a moment while he pondered his response. He knew you were right. You were a total badass and he was painfully aware of it (there were times when a stand-alone part of his body was painfully aware of it as well), but still, he couldn’t resist the urge to protect you. Lately, it was becoming harder.

“I trust you, Y/N/N,” Dean cut in, breaking the silence, and then raising a brow at his brother.

Sam ran a large hand over the lower part of his face, nodding his head without looking at either of you, before rising to his feet and walking out abruptly.

Turning your head to stare after him with furrowed brows, you began uncertainly, “Should I…?” You sent Dean an inquiring glance in lieu of finishing your sentence.

“Nah, I got this. Kid’s probably just cranky after all these hunts. You just stay off that foot for as long as you can, make sure you’re good to go for later.”

You nodded as you watched Dean leave to find Sam. It was only a matter of minutes before you heard their loud voices travelling through the thin walls.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You recognized Sam’s low and enraged voice immediately.

“Well maybe if you just told her!”

“Told her what, Dean?!”

That’s when things got quiet again.

After a moment of pause, you shook it off and went back to reviewing your research for the case in silence. As confused and curious as you were, you weren’t about to let your mood distract you from the perils that laid ahead. Like Dean said, this witch was tricky, and you needed to have the brothers’ backs.

* * *

It was two in the morning when the three of you finally managed to kill the bitch. The hunt turned out to be a team effort after all, with you saving the boys’ asses at the last minute. Your chest was heaving and your ankle throbbing, but you were satisfied with the job well done.

Sam watched as you slowly hobbled back to the car. He could tell that your limp had worsened, but he kept his mouth shut since he knew there was no way they could have done it without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if he and Dean would still be here without you, but seeing you in pain tore at his heart and made him wish things were somehow different, despite the overall positive outcome.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, interrupting Sam’s thoughts and urging him forward with a tired grunt.

“I don’t know about you kids, but I am beat,” Dean looked over at you and Sam as he cut the engine twenty minutes later, “We good with staying another night and heading back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” you agreed, climbing out the car and retreating to your room after bidding the brothers good night.

“Dude,” Dean’s head rolled heavily to the right when only he and Sam were left in the Impala, “Just go talk to her, will ya? You’re driving me nuts here.” He sent his brother an imploring look, a bit of Winchester telepathy.

There was a light knock on your door moments later. You swiped your gun but lowered it when you saw Sam’s hulking form through the peephole.

“Hey,” you greeted quietly after opening the door, keeping one hand on it to help steady yourself.

“Hey,” he echoed, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m fine,” you lied easily, trying not to make it obvious that you were resting all your weight on your good leg.

But of course, Sam was much too shrewd for that, perceptive gaze flickering down to your feet right away, “Can I look at your ankle please?” the words rushed out of his mouth, and he was quick to add more before you had a chance to protest, “I swear, I’m not here to tell you off; I just want to help you. _Please_.”

It always amazed you how Sam could go from towering, ferocious hunter to bashful, adorable, man-boy so seamlessly. He was really stinking cute when he begged, and you could never say no to those puppy dog eyes, “Yeah, OK,” you muttered while backing up to let him all the way in, too exhausted to offer any form of resistance anyway.

You sat on the edge of your bed obediently, bending over to remove your shoes, but Sam was there kneeling beside you in an instant, waving your hands away. He unzipped your boot and slowly slipped it off your foot, careful not to rattle your ankle in the process, with one hand holding on firmly to your calf.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said as he repeated the process with your sock.

“What for?”

“For making you feel like I don’t respect you as a hunter, for making you believe I don’t trust you.” He was down to the compression wrap he’d picked up for you at a drugstore, with which he took extra care removing, keeping his movements slow and cautious. “None of that’s true; I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself more.”

You studied Sam in the pale light, drunk on the feeling of his hands on your skin, “I saved your ass though, didn’t I?”

That brought a chuckle to Sam’s lips, his hands still supporting the full weight of your lower leg as he prodded lightly at the bloated skin around your foot, “Well, the swelling’s definitely worse, but yeah, you did.”

“Then it was worth it. Your ass will always be worth it.”

Sam looked up at you and found himself getting lost in the truth within your eyes. There was a buzz of raw emotion vibrating through the air between you, and so many words came to his mind, but in the end, he settled on, “Come on, we gotta keep this foot elevated.” He then grabbed your waist and managed to move you up the bed in one smooth motion, “I’ll go get you some ice.”

You immediately missed his fingers and the way they had absentmindedly stroked your calf, staring wantonly at his back as he walked out the door.


	3. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean suggests the two of you pose as a couple for a case. Sam objects wholeheartedly. (AKA Sam and Y/N go to therapy.)

The third time was honestly quite fun for Dean. It started with a rare night of relaxation. The three of you were hanging out around a table in the bunker library, steadily working your way through a six-pack Sam had brought back from a supply run earlier. Dean had his legs crossed and feet propped up casually before him, while you and Sam were scrolling leisurely through the internet on your respective laptops.

“I think I just found us a case,” Sam had started with furrowed brows, as he sat up to get a closer look at his screen. “So get this, two married couples in Wisconsin were found dead after visiting the same couples therapist.”

“Does it say how?” you asked, fidgeting with the label on your beer bottle.

“Yeah, they all fell from windows in upper stories.”

Your brows flew up and you huffed in disbelief, “You’re right, seems like a rather unlikely coincidence, probably something up our alley.”

At this point, Dean was ready to burst with glee. God himself could not have presented a better opportunity. If things worked out, he could finally put an end to Sam’s petulant spasms and eradicate the sexual tension that hung so potently (and disturbingly) throughout the air whenever you and Sam were in the same room.

“Well, I guess we know what we gotta do…” Dean tried to fight the grin on his lips as he turned to you, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

With a perfectly straight face, he managed to ask, “Will you marry me?”

The mouthful of beer that Sam was about to swallow erupted forth in a cascade of tiny droplets, spritzing through the air as he began to cough and choke on what little alcohol had somehow made it down the wrong pipe.

You immediately looked over to see if he was alright, not expecting to find the usually adroit and graceful man a sputtering, red-faced mess, “Geez, Sam. Are you okay?” Rising from your seat to move towards him, you stopped when he held out a large palm and waved it at you as a form of both reassurance and interception.

“Yea- yeah, I’m fine,” Sam wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a moment to recompose himself before sending you an awkward little smile of gratitude.

Dean cleared his throat, “So whaddya say, Y/N/N?”

“Huh?”

“About my proposal, before Sammy so rudely interrupted.” Sam was glaring holes through his brother now, but Dean paid him no attention.

“Oh, right,” you chose your next words carefully, “Umm, you mean you wanna go undercover?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side as he raised his eyebrows in a suggestive smirk, “If the shoe fits…”

“Well aren’t you romantic?” you quipped sarcastically.

“Oh sweetheart, just you wait and see,” Dean sent you a wink that you were sure had dropped many a panty in his time yet held little to no effect over you because… well because you were busy being a little too enraptured by his baby brother. That didn’t seem to stop Dean though, “Trust me, as your loving husband-” It was Sam’s turn to clear his throat, but again Dean ignored him, “I'm gonna romance the _shit_ outta you.”

You scoffed at him in amusement, “Right, you mean when we go to _couples therapy_?”

“Baby girl, you’d be surprised-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing both hands up in objection, “Can we just back up for a minute? Why does anyone have to get married?”

Dean shot him an incredulous look, “Come on, Sam, we've worked enough of these cases to know this is always the easiest and fastest way.”

Through stiff jaws Sam released a harsh, conceding sigh, “OK... then... why does it have to be you and Y/N?”

“Cause we’re best friends; it'll be more believable,” Dean answered easily with a grin.

A disbelieving stare crossed Sam’s indignant features before he looked down to suppress his emotions with a sardonic nod and pursed lips. It was one thing for Dean to suggest playing your husband but to claim that you're _his_ best friend instead of Sam's... That was too far.

“Plus, you've always been better at playing FBI,” his brother continued with that irritating smile.

Sam gave himself a moment before stating adamantly, “I don't think it should be you.”

“What, why? You don't think we can get the job done?” Dean’s tone was accusing, and you knew he was trying to provoke Sam, but ever since the notion that two out of the three of you needed to play a married couple had been introduced, you found yourself at an inevitable impasse.

“No, I-“ Sam could barely get any words out before Dean circled back to you instead.

“Y/N?” The look Dean sent you forced you to face your inner dilemma head on. On the one hand, you wanted nothing more than an excuse to get close to Sam, to hold his hand and gaze at him adoringly without worrying about anyone seeing, and so much more… but on the other hand, you feared that a glimpse of the ‘real deal’, however contrived, might just push you over the decisive edge. What if you couldn’t go back to your platonic guise after? What if you broke your own heart?

“What? Um, yeah, I think it could work,” you rubbed the back of your neck nervously, keeping your eyes on Dean’s to avoid meeting Sam’s.

Your response elicited a smug expression on the older Winchester’s face however, as he returned to questioning his brother, “So what is it, Sam? You don't think I can pretend to be in love with Y/N? Cause trust me, that'll be easy.” There was that wink again, prompting a roll of your eyes.

“No, I just-“ You were worried Sam’s jaw might fall off if he clenched it any tighter. Why did he seem to care so much anyway? Was he jealous? The thought popped into your head almost as quickly as you dismissed it.

“Then what, Sam?” Dean plucked at that final straw and an explosion of the type that had seemed to become increasingly common from the ordinarily calm and gentle giant followed.

“IT SHOULD BE ME, OK?” Sam roared in frustration, his expansive chest was heaving and his hazel irises had darkened immeasurably. “It should be me,” he repeated more quietly.

Dean smirked; this was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he expected. “Well geez, Sammy. If you wanted to get with Y/N so bad, you could’ve just said so.”

“Wha- that’s not- I don't,” Sam looked extremely distressed and you couldn’t blame him. Whatever Dean was playing at had led him to essentially force Sam to reject you out right, and being the compassionate soul that he was, you knew Sam never wanted to hurt you that way, even if it was indirectly. “I just- I think it would work better this way. You're not exactly the marriage or therapy type and you're just not-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna shack up with Y/N and who could blame you? There’s no need to throw a hissy fit, baby brother. She’s all yours.” Dean chuckled at the sight of your averted eyes and Sam’s burning cheeks, thinking his work was just about done, “Alright, I’m gonna go get Baby ready. You kids have fun.”

When the echo of a closing door filled the room, Sam turned back to you, “Y/N, look I-“

“Don’t worry about it, Sam, I know what you meant,” you brushed him off hastily, “And you’re right, Dean would probably have a hard time keeping up the act. He’d end up flirting with the therapist or something.” Laughing always did help you conceal the pain in your chest.

* * *

As it turned out, it was a flirtatious therapist you should have been more concerned about. The woman had eyes for Sam only as soon as the two of you walked into her office and sat down on the tiny loveseat before her.

“Welcome, I’m Dr. Ryan, but you can call me Marlena,” she paused to perform a not-so-subtle scan along the length of Sam’s body before smiling at him seductively, “Why don’t we start by introducing yourselves?”

You kept your expression neutral though there was an urge to glare at her. After all, didn’t she think Sam was a married man? Perhaps this was part of the scam that got the couples before you killed, your rational side countered.

“Uh, OK…” Sam appeared rather uncomfortable beside you, pressing his lips into a tight semblance of a smile, “Umm, I'm Sam and this is my wife Y-Y/N.”

The damn Winchester was always so adorably flustered every time someone hit on him, something you never failed to find incredibly endearing, especially considering he was a 6'4” hunk of a man who could surely get inside the pants of any woman he wanted. You assumed, being that good looking, he’d be used to the attention by now, but the fact that he still reacted this way was a true testament to his humility.

“And how did you two meet?”

“Through work,” Sam answered shortly. A resounding pang had shot through his chest when he introduced you as his wife and he was still trying to recoup. If only this wasn't all make-believe, if only he could sit close to you and hold your hand in his whenever he wanted and not just for the sake of a ridiculous pretence. The Mr. and Mrs. titles and matching rings weren't even necessary. He just wanted to make you his as much as he was already yours.

Fuck, Dean was right; Sam was in deep. Just the thought of Dean acting as your husband had his heart racing and every muscle in his body tense with envy. There was no way he could have handled seeing his brother all over you, even if it was pretend. And if the fact that he had to make Dean go get the rings for your current ruse, because he had a strong suspicion the act of buying you a ring yet knowing it wasn’t real might just annihilate the final pieces of his fragile heart, wasn’t telling enough... Sam was finally beginning to realize that he could no longer deny his feelings for you.

“Tell me about that. What is it you two do?”

Although the questions were directed at both of you, Marlena’s gaze remained resolutely transfixed upon Sam, but the man was much too busy thinking about you to notice.

“Uh, well it was about 3 years ago. We’re firefighters and Y/N had been sent from another division to help out with a particularly bad… fire. But she somehow got there before we did, and when I arrived on the scene, I saw her walk out of the burning building in a blaze of smoke and dust. She was carrying a little boy, who she had just saved, covered in ash and soot, a-and there was scrape above her left brow that had left a trail of darkened blood down the side of her face,” Sam smiled to himself at the memory, “But I couldn’t move. It was just all so surreal because it was the last thing I expected to find, and I thought she was the most beautiful soul I had ever set my eyes on. I knew right then that I would gladly devote the rest of my life to getting to know her better, to becoming worthy of her, but when she came up to us, I could barely speak in full sentences and I made a fool of myself by stumbling over my own feet. My brother, who’s uh- also a firefighter, later told me he thought I was having a stroke.” Sam chuckled softly. His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to be a little lost in his own world.

By contrast, you were staring at him in shock. You remembered the day quite clearly, although in reality it was a wendigo that you were forced to kill by starting a fire since your flare gun wouldn’t work, but Sam got the rest of the details spot on. The lilt of his voice as he spoke had made it all sound so real, for a moment, you nearly tricked yourself. Who knew he had such incredible acting chops on top of all those other skills?

“Well, that sounds like a beautiful start. I’m assuming you work together now?” Taking note of the new edge in her voice, you gave her a nod and Dr. Ryan continued, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a pen, “It must be terribly hard to maintain a work-life balance _and_ keep the romance alive. I’m sure there are issues from work that you’ll often bring home, conflicts that can never be resolved considering the lack of alone time? Maybe something you found annoying about the other that seemed bearable in the beginning but has now festered to become an unmendable chasm between the two of you?”

Your eyes narrowed of their own accord. Between the obvious flirting to the now obvious attempt to instigate discord between you and Sam, you were starting to think Marlena was undoubtedly the monster (that or she was an awful couples therapist). Her motive remained unclear though, so you played along.

“Uh, well Sam can be a bit… overprotective, at times, when we’re working, and sometimes it can get in the way of the job.”

“Ok but that’s only because Y/N can be ludicrously stubborn, at times, and she has a habit of running headfirst into danger." Sam was surprisingly quick to retort.

"It's literally our job to run into danger, Sam.” Your body was now twisted to face his, “And if I recall correctly, my ‘ludicrous stubbornness’ has led to the saving of multiple lives, yours included."

Sam lowered his head and scoffed lightly before he too turned to face you completely, golden eyes boring into yours with an intensity you were not prepared for, "I know it has but sometimes you act like other people's lives are worth more than yours and that's not true. Besides, it's my job to care about you, to protect you… I-I mean as your husband."

For a second, things got a little too real there, but you took a deep breath to remind yourself this was all just an act, "And I appreciate that Sam, but sometimes it can be a bit overbearing-"

"Well if I'm overbearing it's only because I'm terrified every time we go out there,” Sam began to enunciate every word stiffly, speaking almost entirely through gritted teeth, “Because I can't bear the thought of losing you, because I can't fathom living a life without you!"

And once again, you were left staring at him with your mouth agape. He sure was laying it on thick, or perhaps he just wanted to win the fight, because you had no idea how to argue against that.

“Alright, I think that’s enough on that topic. Maybe we should try something else,” Dr. Ryan interjected, “Oh look at that, time’s almost up! I always end my sessions with a fun little exercise. I want you to look each other in the eyes and take turns coming up with one positive word to describe the other, something you love about your partner, but it _must_ be genuine.”

Quirking your brow, you struggled to restrain the smile on your face as you turned back to Sam. Well this’ll be easy.

“Intelligent,” you stated matter-of-factly, figuring you’d start with something relatively un-incriminating.

“Strong,” Sam came back at you immediately. There was a fierceness in his eyes, almost as if he was daring you to bring it on.

“Kind,” came your simple response.

“Discerning.” His voice seemed lower for some reason.

“Capable,” you kept your eyes locked on Sam’s as you lifted your chin.

“Tough.” There was an undeniable fondness that accompanied the word when it left his lips.

“Sassy,” you replied, unable to stop the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Tenacious,” Sam narrowed his eyes at you.

“Selfless.” Why did you sound so out of breath?

“Complex.” He was smiling at you now. 

“Protective,” you finally admitted despite your earlier complaints.

“Beguiling,” Why were you both whispering?

“Tall.” Was that lust you could hear in your own voice?

“Badass,” Was that lust you could hear in his voice?

“Gorgeous… or handsome if you prefer.” When did your faces get so close?

“So fucking beautif-”

“Woah! OK, I think we’re done here.” Shit, you had almost forgotten about the therapist. “That was… excessive. I don’t think I’ll be needing to see you again,” she declared as she stood up rather suddenly, prompting you and Sam to do the same though you were both still a little caught up in your game.

“Wow, you really are tall,” Marlena breathed out as she smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt. The provocative tone of her voice had you back down to earth in no time. "And those years of firefighting have definitely paid off, what with all those big muscles.”

Sam gave an awkward half laugh as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you tight against his side. You weren’t sure what compelled you to but as if on instinct, you raised your outer hand and placed it lightly on Sam’s stomach, feeling his abs contracting even through the soft flannel beneath your fingers as you replied, “Yeah, that’s just another one of the many things I love about Sam.”

The laugh that escaped Sam this time was much more sincere, “Thank you for your time, Dr. Ryan.” He kept his hand on your waist as he led the two of you out the door, trying his damnedest to ignore the enticing sensation your touch had evoked throughout his body, as well as the subsequent questions of what your little hand might feel like on other parts of him if a simple graze of his abdomen could produce such a dramatic effect.

* * *

“Did it seem like she was rushing us to you?” you questioned Sam pensively when you were back at the motel half an hour later.

“Yeah, like the more we spoke, the more she lost interest in us,” he agreed.

Your next words tumbled out without permission and you could only cringe at the bitter inflection of your voice, “Well, she didn’t seem to lose any interest in _you_.”

Sam felt himself smile at your adorableness; he couldn’t help it when your bottom lip jutted out like that. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were jealous.

“Are you two outta your damn minds?” Dean looked from his brother’s face to yours. “Did you even check the time? She only gave you about half of what we paid for!”

“What, really?” you and Sam responded in chorus.

“Yeah, but luckily I’m a genius and I got everything we needed within the first few minutes.” Grinning in that cocky way of his, Dean explained, “Your EMF sensors were off the charts as soon as you walked into her office, and I found ectoplasm in the bathroom.”

“She’s a ghost?” Sam did that adorable scrunchy thing with his face and you had to physically stop yourself from staring.

“Possessed by one, yeah. And I checked the records. She spent at least an hour overtime with both of the dead couples.”

“So, what, are we not good enough to be her next victims?” you wondered.

“Maybe she saw through the act?” Sam suggested.

Dean was fumbling through a stack of papers until he found something, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s it. Here, check this out.”

Sam started to read out loud, “’Grave of local girl found desecrated by joggers passing through the cemetery early Sunday morning…’”

“Turns out the kid got pushed out a window accidentally when her parents were fighting... Splat.” Dean elaborated, ever so tactfully.

You were starting to piece it together though, “So now she’s seeking out dysfunctional couples to kill them the way she died… for what, revenge? Or to stop them from accidentally murdering their own kids?”

“That’s my best guess,” Dean confirmed.

“Huh… nice work on research, buddy. I’m impressed,” the playful grin you sent Dean’s way was not lost on Sam.

“Yeah, well your husband’s not the only one who can look stuff up around here. Besides, someone had to do the work while you two were off playing Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Sam and I have never tried to kill each other,” you argued.

Dean snorted while grabbing his jacket, “And that’s about the only way your relationship differs.”

When he saw your brows pull together in confusion, Sam quickly cut in to change the subject, “So uh- what’s the plan?”

His brother was nearly out the door when he responded, “Nice and easy. I’ll go burn the bones while you guys go back and distract her with your little love fest, capiche?”

The ghost was surprisingly open this time around, admitting freely to her past crimes and even explaining her methods. Apparently, flirting with the husbands was a routine and easy test to spot any cracks in the relationships, one that she claimed Sam had passed with flying colors. But you knew better than to assume his achievement had anything to do with you. After all, you’d seen the man hold fast against the fervent advances of a high-end stripper before, while he was drunk. This was nothing.

“But why kill them?” Sam questioned, with the kind of genuine curiosity that only he could exhibit towards a murderous monster.

“Because it’s better to die than stay in a loveless marriage… But of course you two wouldn’t underst-“ Dean must have completed his task because the therapist was interrupted by a shapeless black plume bursting through her mouth.

‘Oh Shit,’ you thought relentingly as you watched the spirit eject itself and disappear into a fiery cloud of dark fumes, a forlorn expression upon your face, ‘I’m in love with Sam Winchester.’

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated :)


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